The Rogue Spirit's Deck
by Goddess of Destiny
Summary: AU: Remy LeBeau is a drunk gambler down on his luck. Owing Victor Creed a great deal of money, he takes the next job offered to him, despite his compunctions about going back to the War Zone. He's followed by his friend Logan and finds unusual help in a ghost spirit bound to a deck of cards who cannot remember her name or her life before her death. She is known only as Rogue
1. Prologue: Out of Luck

**Summary: **AU: Remy LeBeau is a drunk gambler down on his luck. Owing Victor Creed a great deal of money, he takes the next job offered to him, despite his compunctions about going back to the War Zone. He's followed by his friend Logan and finds unusual help in a ghost spirit bound to a deck of cards who cannot remember her name or her life before her death. She is known only as Rogue

**Disclaimer: **I do not own any rights to the X-Men

**AN: **So this is a tad unusual. I have this original plot that I'm working on under the same concept: drunk gambler down on his luck, ghost girl that can't be touched, secrets, mayhem, etc. It wasn't until after I started planning it that I realized the plot could easily be made into a Romy fanfic since it easily has that "I can't touch you" "But you're keeping dark secrets from me" angsty feel. So I figured... why the hell not just write it as a fanfic first to get a feel for the plot.

So. You'll be seeing a lot of familiar faces as I work to push X-Men characters into the roles that I need for the plot. A lot of them work in rather well (i.e. Remy, Rogue, Logan). Some of them don't fit in quite as well but they have an element or so that fits the original character I created (i.e. Kitty, Scott). I appreciate everybody willing to bare with me.

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Prologue: Out of Luck

"You sure you wants to be taking your chances, punk?"

"Ain't much of a risk wit' y', Creed."

"If you're so sure… I won't complain about taking all of your money."

The grin on Victor Creed's face should not be mistaken for playful or friendly. It was a menacing warning that any heavy gambler ought to heed. And usually Remy LeBeau wouldn't play at any table the ruthless Marauder (what passed for police in this area) was sitting at. But this particular bar Remy was rather fond of just didn't see the same amount of traffic that it used to. Times were tough and the people that gambled got tougher with it.

This was the only table currently running at the bar and Remy needed the money. He was fairly confident he could outwit the ol' cat or die trying.

There wasn't much metaphorical about the latter. Remy had seen Creed literally pull people's arms off for simply bumping into him in line. He was a nasty sort but he didn't usually come to this bar. Mostly because the bartender was just about the only person that could match Creed blow for blow. Remy didn't think ol' Sabretooth was necessarily afraid of their Wolverine bartender, but he didn't risk scuffles with Logan if he could help it.

Remy passed along a cred-sheet to the dealer letting him know how much he was good for. It was a bold face lie but fortunately they also got a dealer that didn't know Remy too well. The pot always deflated when working with empty chips, but it was the only way Remy knew how to get money at the moment. Jobs had been terribly short the tighter their Emperor, through Nathaniel Essex, pulled the noose around the populace.

Anybody not leaving a clean life style usually found their way into the cellars of the esteemed castle. And Remy lived a very, very unclean lifestyle… Wasn't much else for a solider that abandoned his post. He was branded a traitor in his own country.

But they'd brand him as far worse if he'd stayed to reveal the truth.

At first Remy was bleeding chips, but it was mostly on purpose to keep the game going longer. And to see if he couldn't get a handle on some of these chap's tells. Of course as the drinks started taking their effects, it became easier and easier to outwit the more civilian poker players.

Creed on the other hand… Well, Remy was beginning to think he either didn't have a tell or Remy was losing his touch. He kept an easy smirk on the entire game, keeping up with the banter and flirting quite lively with Madam Mystique, an older woman with dignified greying hair. Finally, a few rounds in a row Remy managed to rake in enough chips to put him over the amount on his cred-sheet.

But it wasn't enough. And Remy was still determined to discover Creed's tell, beat the swaggering man at this game. He still had the largest pile of chips and seemed to sneer in Remy's direction the most. A couple more rounds and Remy was down again, though he congratulated Mystique with a kiss on the hand as she pulled in a good amount. Dissatisfied poker players left, leaving just the three with the most to lose.

And Remy was certain his hand would win it. Bet big or go home, right?

His smirk didn't waver for a second as Creed got the winning hand, taking all but one lousy token Remy held on to for something to fiddle with. Remy congratulated the big oaf for his winnings, flipping the token toward Creed as Remy stood up, putting on his coat.

"Not so fast, LeBeau."

Merde.

"Y'know, it's common practice in dis bar for the winner to buy a round of drinks," Remy said, spinning around to face the monster of a man beginning to stand up as well.

"Is that so?" Creed leered. "Then how about we use your creds. Cough 'em up."

"I don't got dem," Remy said breezily, hands going into the pockets of his duster. Projecting a relaxed air when deep inside he really just wanted to turn tail and run. "Y'won all my chips, so y'got dem. See how dis works, mon ami?"

"This?" Creed growled, his composure breaking. Probably used to his victims cowering and begging, not staring him down defiantly. He picked up Remy's cred-sheet between two fingers and held it up. "This is an IOU. So _you_ give _me_. See how this works?"

"Certainly. And when I 'have' I'll be sure to give."

The growl ripped through the bar, shushing the handful of patrons, all eyes turning to see the table crash to the ground. Creed stalked over to pick Remy up by the front of his coat, pinning him to the wall. Despite the discomfort, Remy only broke into a slight frown, keeping his arms at his side.

"You're saying you don't have my money, punk?" Creed growled. His hot breath and little specks of spittle sprayed onto Remy's face.

But he didn't flinch. "M'sayin I don't have it yet."

The man pulled Remy away from the wall only to shove him against it again. This time Remy's composure was broken as he grunted, the air knocked from his lungs.

"Then where's my money!?"

"I've got a job," Remy lied through gritted teeth. "Done by de end of de week…"

"You better be good for it, LeBeau," Creed snarled deep in his throat.

"M'good for it. I swear."

They stayed in their stand off for minutes, burning eyes of a madman glaring into the unreadable ones of a born liar. Creed's grip on Remy's coat was tightening all the while, Remy's back and shoulders starting to feel the strain against the wall.

"Enough!" a third voice joined the party. A low rumbling one that made Creed back off the pressure on the young man. "Not in my bar, Creed. Not ever."

"Whatever you say, Logan," Creed responded lazily, dumping Remy onto the ground.

A wave of dizziness kept Remy on the ground for several minutes as Creed and his posse exited the bar. In that time, things certainly went back to normal for the rest of the inhabitants. So Remy shakily getting to his feet and righting the poker table went mostly unnoticed.

Yet as he reached the bar, Logan pulled up a bottle of bourbon and glass with a large sigh.

"Ya know you can't really afford this on yer tab, Remy," Logan grumbled, going back to cleaning out glasses with a rag.

"A gift and it ain't even my birthday," Remy chuckled with a halfhearted wink.

Logan gave the man a very hearty but wordless grumble on the matter but didn't correct Remy. Neither of them really gave a rat's ass about Remy's tab. But Logan always made a point to be disapproving of Remy's careless gambling.

"Always said you'd land yerself in too much trouble," Logan brought up. Once Remy was a good couple of glasses into his bottle of bourbon. And definitely starting to feel the effects.

"Pah! Dis one's easy. Just find myself a job by de end o'de week and poof," Remy said, waving his glass around and barely feeling the liquid slosh over the sides. "It all goes away." He downed the glass as if to add the effect to his words.

"And rent?"

"Sheesh, y'my mom now Logan?" Remy muttered, downing another glass.

"You need a steady paycheck, Remy," Logan huffed, giving him a dirty look. "You know it, I know it."

Silence fell on them as Logan leaned forward on the bar and Remy stared down at the bottom of his glass. They both knew this conversation wasn't over. But Remy was rather hoping that once again Logan would let it drop. Leave the words unsaid.

"The only thing you did wrong was leave," Logan said in a low voice. "You could go back."

"Non," Remy said sourily, trying to hide his shaking hand as he downed another drink of bourbon. "I ain't going back to the X-Corps. Not ever."

"Why do you have to be so stubborn?" Logan growled, fists tightening until his knuckles were white. "I'm _telling_ you it's alright, Remy! You can give up on this whole loyalty thing—"

"And o'course Logan," Remy laughed dryly, tilting his head back to let the liquor run down his throat. "Y't'ink it's all about y'. How cute."

The glass flew from Remy's hand, exploding in shards of glass on the floor. Remy gaped a bit, wobbling on his stool only to be righted by Logan's hand closing around the front of his shirt. A very angry Logan, growling and glaring at a now very drunk Remy.

"I know you ain't squandering yer money and drowning in booze fer nothing, Remy!" Logan snarled, shaking his friend a couple of times before letting go. "Whatever yer shitty reason is, figure it out and get over it! I'm getting sick of looking at ya."

Remy's stomach rolled as he watched his friend stalk away into the backroom. It wasn't the first time Remy had brought out Logan's anger so that it came to blows and shouting. But it was probably the first time it hadn't been over Remy being an ass on purpose. That it'd been over something… personal.

Remy shoved off from the bar, his footing unsteady and his vision swirling. There was a cloudy, dark haze around the edges of his eyesight but Remy ignored it, managing to stagger to his feet. It wasn't the first time he'd gotten sloppy drunk and made his way back to the shitty one room apartment he called 'home.'

He found, almost gratefully, that Logan had left the bottle of bourbon. With an unsteady smirk, Remy grabbed it up and stumbled out of the front door of the bar.

Despite Remy's best of intentions, Logan's words still hung over his head as he shuffled through the streets and back alley ways. Years ago, an unfortunate set of events led to the woman Logan loved dying in the line of duty for the X-Corps. On that day, Logan left but not without sending one hell of a message of what he thought of the corps for letting her die.

Remy went with him. For one to keep his friend from doing any harm to others and two because Remy simply couldn't stomach it anymore. Not just losing friends and loved ones in the battles. But what he was asked to do for his allegiance. What Remy had chosen to do…

Whether by the poisonous effects of the bourbon or dread for the nightmarish things Remy had done, his stomach emptied its contents in an alley. Remy groaned and managed to get only another step on before his vision black out and he fell to the ground. The impact of his head on the hard ground brought him back to consciousness, but only barely.

He opened his bleary eyes, the way the world spun making his stomach churn again. But he was even too weak to vomit, forced only to feel the steady wave of nausea. He managed to turn slightly on his side, head resting on his arm. Trying to debate whether he ought to bother getting up.

_Better to just die here. Save everybody some trouble_, Remy thought.

He couldn't though. For all the pain and suffering he'd brought on to other people. For as much as anybody that knew the truth would hate him. For all the hundreds of awful, sleepless nights. Remy couldn't just let himself end like this. He'd go down fighting or not at all.

"Yau're feelin sorry for yourself, ain't ya?"

Remy chuckled a bit to himself, almost finding it ironic as he spotted feminine legs kneeling down in his view. Any other time this would be a view he would cherish. He would reach out a hand, a devilish smirk on his face, and caress that thigh. Until he had the woman panting and ready to be pleased in other ways that Remy would enjoy immensely.

But right now he couldn't trust himself to move without puking, let alone make his delicate ministrations feel less like drunk pawing.

"How y'guess, Chere?"

"You always this stand offish? Even drunk as you are?" the woman continued. Sounding more interested than confused, though it was definitely a question.

"Remy can be anyt'ing y'want him to be." He managed to pull off a grin though he couldn't shift his gaze to look at her without his vision going dark. So he kept to her knees. "Just say de word."

"Ah want you to be yourself."

"'Fraid I can't do dat one," Remy grimaced, deciding now was the time to close his eyes. He wasn't sure why he was being so honest with this stranger, but he felt compelled. He also felt like sleeping.

"Giving up, Remy?"

"Non," Remy grunted. He grit his teeth and managed to open his eyes again, glaring at the opposite wall of the alley.

"Then get up."

Through some sort of strength of will power, Remy managed to brace his elbow into the ground and shakily push up into a half sitting position. Though lights danced in his eyes, he brought them up to see the girl that was motivating him. Seeing her kneeling there, almost sparkling with sunlight though it was only barely dawn. Still she seemed to shimmer as she looked at him with bright green eyes, her round face framed by lone white streaks in her otherwise auburn hair.

"Who are y'?" Remy asked, reaching out a hand to touch that face. The one that was smiling at him so sadly.

"Ah don't know…"

His fingers passed through her cheek, meeting no resistance. Remy gaped, trying to form words in his muddled brain by finding nothing until the girl started to fade away.

"Wait!"

With a muffled groan, Remy sat up in bed, eyes looking around his sparse apartment wildly. Trying to remember how and when he'd gotten here. The majority of his clothes were piled, rumpled, near the foot of the bed. And quite quickly, Remy felt the pounding headache that was the result of his binge drinking.

So the bar had been real. He must have blacked out from there, though, reality mixing in with a most remarkable dream. Remy ran a hand over his face, trying to calm himself down. But for the first time waking up from a dream, he was panicked and scared not because he was desperate to escape. But because he wished not to lose the dream.

He closed his eyes, trying to recall the details of the girl. The one that pushed him on from giving up in a dirty alley way even though he had nothing left but demons to live for. He recalled every angle of her legs, her wide hips coming up to a well-proportioned waist and bust. Her face was soft but with angular and full lips that looked well experienced. Her eyes and hair he remembered well. And her hands…

They'd been covered by silk green gloves coming up to her elbow. They'd been clutched in her lap and holding a small bouquet of dried white roses.

Then all at once it faded and Remy reached out into thin air, snarling, like he could bring it back. He sighed in frustration, bringing his fist heavily down on the bed. But it was gone now, only a faded memory that he could barely grasp the recollection of.

He stood from his bed and went over to retrieve his clothing, shaking out his poor dirtied trench coat.

And from a pocket fell a dried white rose. Remy looked at it sadly, scooping it up in his hands and placing it safely upon the nightstand.

But he'd already forgotten why the sight of the rose filled him with such warmth.

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**AN: **Thanks for reading. I look forward to seeing some reviews! It might be a couple of days before an update on this fanfic as I feel the need to try and finish my other fanfic up within the next week or two. So it had first priority. But I'm really excited about this idea and the more reviews I get, the more motivated I will be to write up updates.


	2. Chapter One: The Job

**Disclaimer: **I do not own the characters, they belong to Marvel and the X-Men. But I've taken some liberties with them for the sake of my own plot.

**AN: **Okidoki folks! Few days later and I finally manage an update. Felt the need to make sure my other got updated first since those readers have been waiting longer.

I do want to make a note to what some of you might be thinking. In regards to Remy being in debt I know I as a reader would be like "Hey, he's a thief. Why doesn't he just steal some money?" Well in this universe Remy isn't a thief. He's a soldier, that's all he's ever been. He's still a bit trickier than most and probably knows a bit of pick pocketing.

I also haven't decided quite yet how much of everybody's mutant powers will come in to the story. Seeing as there aren't 'mutants' per se in this universe. There is magick though, so likely I'll throw in some powers where it makes sense to. Thanks guys!

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Chapter One: The Job

"Can ya believe this?"

The newspaper was thrown immediately onto the table in front of Remy as he snuck in the back way to Wolverine's Bar. He froze for a second, certain he was about to get a lecture about the whole Creed issue. The brute had started to terrorize the bar, which was doing little to help Logan's already declining revenue.

Today Remy got off stark clean because of whatever was in the paper. So he had no problems at all shaking off his problems at the door to pick up the paper and open it up. It didn't take long to find what would have Logan so upset. The usual bullshit about the Emperor trying to call peace with the other worlders but the War continuing anyways filled the first few pages. Same thing week after week, which wouldn't get Logan unduly upset.

Nah, it was about five pages in where the announcements on X-Corps were kept. And there was even a picture of Scott Summers with his shiny new badge, shaking hands with General Xavier. That'd definitely get Logan riled up.

"Well good for…"

His praise for Summer's accomplishment was cut off in Remy's throat by the feral glare his friend sent him.

"…Rachel. She'll have a shiny new toy from Daddy to play wit'," Remy finished, tossing the newspaper aside but keep his face stony. Matching Logan's death gaze.

He still received a rather vicious growl for the mention, but it was less 'I'll rip your face off.' It was still difficult getting used to the animosity Logan felt for Summers, even all these years after they left the Corps. And every time it got brought up it was like a cool, burning gel had been poured into Remy's insides. He grit his teeth against the sensation, not daring to look away from Logan's eyes.

This was a battlefield that no matter how sick he felt, Remy had to stay solid on. There was no reason for Logan to hate Scott; only a perceived one. And if he knew the whole truth… the real one…

But that was never going to happen. Not only because Logan would never get over his hatred but because Scott was too good of a person to come clean. He didn't mind covering. Which just made Remy feel dirtier but more intent on battling Logan's raw wills here.

He'd never let go, though. It was the only thing fueling Logan anymore. The hate and the anger. The day Jean died, Remy didn't just have to stop Logan from killing Scott…

"Well, that better not be the best thing she's got to play with," Logan growled, making the first move to look away. Conceding a bit on his anger.

As he always had because in full honesty, the little girl was the only reason Remy had really been able to stop Logan from skewering Scott. Couldn't very well let Rachel lose her mother and father in one day.

"Y'just miss it dere," Remy teased, pulling off his hat. "Could always go back under a fake identity. Or use mine."

"Oh yes," Logan snorted. "Because nobody would notice that the half-demon LeBeau had lost his signature red eyes."

"Or dat he was considerably more hairy," Remy mused, looking his friend over. Glad for the joke to pull them from the more somber conversation. He'd rather it had never been brought up at all since with Creed around for his throat, Remy had a difficult time of sleeping.

A sudden strange look came over Logan and he seemed to hesitate on something for a moment. His eyes fell upon a rickety wood cabinet and the man swayed on his feet. Then he nodded to himself and bustled across the room to reach into the cabinet and pull out a stack of letters. Logan held it to his chest for a moment, staring at Remy, before walking over and setting them down.

"We could both go back," Logan grunted, flicking at the pile. Like it didn't matter in the least and immediately turning away to start cleaning glasses.

It did matter though. Remy knew already from just understanding his friend. But if not that, the stiff set of Logan's shoulders was enough. The fighting and the camaraderie of battle were important to Logan. It not only gave him a way to channel his rage but it made him matter. It was the only thing Logan really knew and the shame of leaving hung around him heavily.

"So," Remy said, fingering at the corner of a letter. "Go back."

His gut wrenched despite his easy attitude. Remy had gotten quite used to not really being alone. It would be hard getting by without his friend.

"I'd have to start right at the bottom again," Logan explain. He growled slightly at the prospect but pointing at the letters all the same. Made Remy look at them a bit more, wondering how the hell the Corps got letters to Logan. But apparently they got transferred to a secondary site where Logan went to pick them up over the last few years.

"Yo' poor pride," Remy snorted.

"Watch it Gumbo." Logan's growl was half assed this time. Especially with the look in his eyes as he looked over at Remy.

Asking the silent question of whether it was worth it… Get back to the only thing that Logan felt worthwhile at but deal with the humiliation of dishonor.

Remy could do nothing but shrug. "Yo' always tellin me to go back."

"Yeah," Logan grumbled, head tilting at the sound of people entering the bar. Which was really Remy's queue to leave before Creed made his unpleasant appearance. "But y'won't."

"No," Remy agreed. "I won't."

They stood in a standstill. Their eyes locked together trying to figure out where the other might shift if push came to shove. But they knew each other and their stubbornness too well. It really was a shame sometimes that Scott wasn't here. He always seemed to fine the leeway and the compromise in their stubbornness.

"Get yer ass out of the fire," Logan finally grumbled. He pulled out a bottle of bourbon and pushed it on the table before turning to tend to the bar.

"Now who's de one dat's got a loyalty t'ing?" Remy called after him. Laughing slightly as he put his hat back on and reached for the bourbon.

At the last moment he yanked his hand back, deciding to leave it. He'd sleep no better with alcohol in his belly than without. Plus Logan was getting about as short on funds as Remy was, if you ignored the red bits. He'd need all the supplies he could keep.

Remy cursed to himself as he pulled his hat down tighter and turned away from the tempting bottle. The siren's song of a blissful drunk stupor calling to him from the amber liquid. He stepped out into the frosty air and immediately narrowed his eyes against the wind. It'd be a cold night in his apartment tonight. Likely sleep in his coat for the added warmth.

"Merde."

Remy swung back around, berating himself even as he picked up the bourbon and started off again. No, he couldn't imagine sleeping in the cold with nightmares and no bourbon. Course the weather just added another bleak note to the issue of his funds. He kept checking listings, boards and eaves dropping on conversations, but there just weren't any more jobs.

Unless he took the Angel job. But while Remy might pull a bounty in from time to time, he wasn't interested in one that involved mutilation. Sure, a lot of the creeps he pulled in alive probably ended up executed. But he could at least pretend they got a decent trial first.

Besides, bounty hunting reminded him too much of the Corps. Remy would rather leave that entirely behind him. Save for the bits he still cared to reminisce about with his friend. Which was very little anymore, from either of them. No, most of their conversations these days seemed to revolve around Logan brow beating Remy. Like Remy was a child!

He laughed to himself, cracking the bottle open to take a swig. Feeling a little warmth seep through his body from his belly.

He'd kill for an unmarried woman to drop in front of him right now. Get her to invite him back into her room so he'd have somewhere warm to stay. Hell, he'd even take a moderately pretty gal. Just didn't seem like you could walk down these roads without all of them being married.

Or whores. And Remy didn't go near them unless he knew they were clean.

He was well into being buzzed by the time he reached his apartment, actually fumbling with his keys a bit. He cursed soundly at his shaking hands and then even louder when his hat fell from his head. He shook it off to the ground, having no spare hands to handle it right at the moment. Finally, the door creaked open and Remy looked down to kick his hat inside.

Watching it slide across the floor till it hit a boot under Remy's small round table.

Strangely the boot was attached to somebody. Remy blinked at it uncomprehendingly for a moment before staggering into his apartment and looking up at the blue skinned man sitting at his table. And maybe more importantly at the woman standing just behind the chair. Because despite the blue elf being the one sitting, the woman commanded the most presence.

The way she stood in her trousers and tunic, hand draped on the hilt of the rapier at her waist just seemed to shout she was in charge. It demanded she be looked at and addressed properly.

Which even on a normal day Remy would be unwilling to do. Right now he was simply unable.

"Well, bonjour. Must be a god since he's gone and answered dis bastard's prayers and dropped a beautiful woman directly into my room."

The man's eyes narrowed. But with gentle pressure from a gloved hand on his shoulder, the woman kept him from acting. Or saying something… but Remy kind of had this feeling from his attitude that the blue guy didn't talk much.

"You are Remy LeBeau, correct?" the woman spoke.

"Depends on who's askin," Remy said, winking. He managed to kick the door shut without falling over but still had to stagger forward to sit at the table. How much did he drink? He lifted the bottle and saw he was nearing the half-way point. Okay, apparently that much. "But sho' femme. If it suits yo' fancy, I'm Remy LeBeau."

"And you were captained at the Danger Zone?" the woman continued. Apparently ignoring Remy's gross flirting.

That helped to sober Remy up, though. He swallowed, shifting a bit in his seat as his stomach rolled. Wasn't any big secret, he supposed. Anybody that could get into Corps records was bound to run across his out postings. Just never occurred to Remy that somebody with that knowledge might actually show up where he was. Made him nervous about how this woman found him.

"Yeah…" Remy said uneasily.

"Good."

Remy couldn't keep looking at her at this point. He didn't want that to be a good thing. Maybe if she was about to put him in chains and drag him off for crimes he committed… Something a bit more than abandoning it post, preferably. But that didn't seem to be the tone she was using and Remy hated himself for being glad the secret was still kept.

The blue man tilted his head back slightly to raise a questioning eyebrow. Apparently somebody didn't agree with the lady on coming to Remy. Glad somebody was on Remy's side here.

"I am Captain Katherine Pryde and this is my second mate, Kurt Darkholme," the woman introduced them.

"Kurt, hein?" Remy said with a wicked grin. "Funny, didn't place y'for a 'Kurt.'"

Though there wasn't any movement, the restraining hand Pryde had on Kurt's shoulder tightened a bit. In response, Kurt simply crossed his arms over his chest. Yeah, just like Remy guessed. Homme wasn't big on talking. Wondered if he was even capable of it…

"We wish to employ you on a mission to the Danger Zone," Pryde continued as if nothing had occurred. "It will be a long trip with some dangers but I'll pay you a hefty wage for the journey, a bonus, and a finder's fee at the conclusion."

"Finder's fee for what?" Remy asked, leaning the chair back and placing his boots on the table. It was a bit tricky under his wobbly circumstances, but it help him keep focus. Didn't need to be blacking out in the middle of a conversation about money. Still he was suspicious about what anybody might want with the Danger Zone… Place was pretty much bombed central. Not even the enemy really had a foothold there last Remy checked.

Oh, and he'd certainly checked…

"Such matters would be a concern for the journey," Pryde said easily. "If you agree to come."

"And if I do," Remy replied, "and I decide I don't like de job… I leave?"

Cause there was always the problem with jobs they wouldn't tell you about until you agreed. More than likely once you were in, you were in… or you were dead. Part of the reason why Remy's source of jobs were so tight. He didn't do goo with being dead. So he either ended up not taking those jobs, or skipping out once the first half had been paid and then had to lay low. Until they gave up on trying to kill him. And the 'do it or else' jobs were becoming more and more common place the more Essex tightened the noose on crime.

"Absolutely," Pryde said. And Remy was kind of surprised at how convincingly honest her tone was. This girl was strangely naïve, it turned out. Not that he could really tell for certain just by a tone of voice… But now that he looked harder, she seemed younger than he was. And Remy was pretty young for the merde he'd undergone.

Remy leaned forward, peering at the girl more intently. Dieu, she even had freckles! Which seemed to just drop his estimate of her age even more in his head. Especially with that button nose and soft brown eyes… It was just hard to imagine she was much more than a teenager. Kurt was maybe a bit older than that, but it was hard to tell with these elf types. Sometimes they appeared to be children and yet were somehow a hundred years old.

"Puttin together a crew, Cap?" Remy asked.

"I have myself a crew, LeBeau," Pryde said in a low voice. "I'm offering you a job."

"Also heard somet'in about wages," Remy mused, pursing his lips.

"That you did." She nodded and pulled out a pad of paper. "I figure it'd motivate you to stick around. And besides, I expect you to work on the ship on the trip."

"Remy ain't one for manual labor."

"It's a big boat," Pryde chuckled, sliding a folded slip toward him. "I'm sure we could find something for you to do."

Cautiously, Remy lifted the paper, keeping it shut until he could look at it without peeping eyes. Not that there was anybody in the room but Kurt. But it paid to be paranoid of corners, windows and cracks in the walls and door. The moment he eyed the figures, he had to reach out to take a gulp of the bourbon.

That in his system he looked at the number again. His eyes just about as round as the number of zeros scrawled across the paper. The good captain had even been courteous to sign her name at the bottom with a date. It wasn't just informational, it was a promise and a contract.

Remy folded it up a good number of times and put it in his inside breast coat pocket.

"I'll just be keepin dat…" he muttered to himself.

Taking another drink of the bourbon before holding it out to Kurt, he thought the number over. The elf waved it away but seemed to have relaxed a fair amount. Guess now that it was obvious how to keep Remy in bounds Kurt wasn't quite so paranoid anymore. Not that he was an easy guy to read.

"So… y'said somet'ing about a boat?"

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**AN: **So this is probably the most reviews I've gotten on a first chapter of anything. So thanks to everybody that reviewed.

Fosterb: Yeah, I liked being able to come up with a new twist on the untouchable thing. It's what I always liked about Rogue because of the drama it brings, but by now it feels like her power is over done. And no worries, I have figured out Rogue's history and it will come up... eventually.

The WatchMaker and Adrestea: I'm glad you enjoyed the first chapter! Really happy everybody thinks it's original. I'm really excited about the idea and hoping my muse sticks with me for quite some time before she becomes a hassle.

Luckys girl: It's always option C! But glad you're approving of the use of Logan and Remy. It's always nerve wracking for me to write those characters cause you do them so well, I feel like anything I do will be a cheap imitation or completely wrong. And yes, the banter is fun as always.

Thanks again everybody. R&R please! Hoping the next update will come out sooner


	3. Chapter Two: Old Swagger

__**Disclaimer: **I still don't own X-Men. The plot is mine

**AN: **Been awhile since an update. Been working on my other ongoing fanfic and started a Romy oneshot series. This isn't quite as complete a chapter as I wanted but I decided since I had a scene done I might as well post to let people know I haven't given up/forgotten about this.

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Chapter Two: Old Swagger

_Should've figured he wouldn't lay low long, _Logan thought. _Gotta cause some sort o'mischief._

Still, he found it a bit peculiar that the kid seemed dressed in his finest. Sure same old duster and hat, but his clothes looked like they'd actually been through the wash. Weren't just your basic tunic and trousers. Nah, Remy had on his toughest black pants and a leather reinforced shirt. Also traded out his tatted brown stompers for some heavy duty boots. Nice shiny buckles and everthing.

Wasn't just the new and refreshed clothing, Remy was walking different too. Didn't come slinking in, immediately checking corners and shadows. Sure, he was a bit wobbly and stunk of his usual drink. But Remy was walking taller, his old tell-tale grin plastered on his face. Even spun on his heel a bit to tilt his head down and then back up, checking some gal's figure. Idiot. Logan would hand the punk his ass if he hadn't been missing the attitude to some degree.

"And who's bed didja wake up in?" Logan grumbled as Remy leaned up against the bar. Found _himself_ sniffing around to see if Creed was nearby. Didn't need a fight brewing up. Business had actually picked up on account of the friggin' cold weather and Logan providing a fire.

"Better," Remy informed Logan, pulling his shades down his nose a bit. "Got a job."

Logan snorted. "So ya spent it on clothes and booze. Real smart, Gumbo."

"Nah, dese are on loan," Remy snickered, winking before replacing his glasses.

Course they were. Part of Logan was almost certain the person they belonged to didn't know they were on loan. Either that or Remy's new employer was good enough to get a two-bit gambler's bad record waived. At least convince a couple people to turn a blind eye.

Though it concerned Logan that a job would require Remy to dress up this much. Hadn't seen him this way since they first left the Corps, and that was dressed _down_ for soliders like them. But the types of gigs they'd been forced to take to survive week to week required more finesse than a battlefield. Remy adapted to that lifestyle easily. He'd always been the scout and sniper sort. Logan was more front lines. If they hadn't known each other since they were kids they might never have met.

"You know who wears glasses inside?" Logan grunted. "The blind and assholes."

"Stop flirting, Logan. Yo' gonna make me blush."

That would be the day. "So what about Creed?" Logan narrowed his eyes at the punk, making sure he didn't dart away from this one. It was serious business being in debt to a Marauder, especially one like Creed. And it was coming up on when Remy 'promised' the money. Could pretty much bet Creed would want to cash in sooner rather than later.

Part of Logan didn't think it'd let off even if Remy did pay him back. Wasn't just about the money. Remy had ticked the hairball off. Creed didn't like people that could and would stand up to him. And Remy did it with arrogance.

"What about him?" Remy said with a shrug. "Next port I send a purse back to him. My wages ought to placate him. And unless he wants to go half way across de continent for my hide, I never see de chump again."

Logan was nodding along because despite it being Remy, it all sounded reasonable enough. But the more detail the kid added on top of it the more Logan's brow furrowed. Not because it didn't still make sense. It certainly took care of the Creed problem.

But it caused an issue he was pretty certain they'd both silently agreed not to really put on one another. At least, he'd been pretty certain they'd decided on that. From the moment Remy dragged him away from the Corps, they'd stuck it out together. It'd only been in the last year that they'd decided to stop moving. When Logan took up working at the bar to bring in reasonably steady money.

Remy might come in and out of town randomly but he always seemed to stay here more often than not. While unpredictable, Logan could still count on his friend being nearby.

And coming back…

"That so?" Logan grunted. He reached under the bar, pulling up a bottle of beer. With a flick of his thumb he opened the container and guzzled some of the amber liquid down.

"We leave tomorrow," Remy said idly, leaning one elbow into the bar and lazily flicking a peanut shell around.

Except nothing about his posture read as easy as he was trying to sell it. Dammit all, Logan was bad at words! He didn't know how to handle this. And the punk that was supposedly good with words was too shifty to come out and say anything.

Logan growled under his breath, running a hand through his dark hair. "And where ya leaving to?"

The way Remy cleared his throat made Logan brace for the bad news. Like it wasn't enough that Remy was suggesting he wasn't coming back to this town. Apparently there was more, harder issues about this job.

"Eh," Remy said, flicking the shell hard. "De Danger Zone…"

He seemed to swallow the end of the last word as Logan hissed between his teeth. It was an unconscious reaction to the topic but even still, Logan wouldn't take it back. Because Remy knew _damn_ well it was a perfectly legitimate reaction. In fact, they were all lucky Logan had a pretty tight lid on shit. Things normally ended up broken when that place got brought up in the past.

"So yer gonna go saunterin into Elf territory?" Logan growled, pausing to sip his beer. "With those eyes?"

"Less saunterin and more flyin…" Remy responded faux-casually.

Because that made it better. Talking like something that didn't make a lick of sense actually meant something.

Remy was pulling a piece of paper out of his breast pocket slowly, his face neutral. As he did Logan thought over the fact he'd been telling the kid to straighten up for a while now. To get a well-paying job, stop landing himself in trouble, and stop being a sloppy drunk at Logan's bar. And suddenly he was telling Remy that his opportunity wasn't good enough?

Why? Because it took him away so Logan couldn't watch after his ass? Considering how much Remy had covered his back the first year out of the Corps, Logan owed him. But what had he really done? Shoved some liquor at his pal and lectured him a good couple of times. Like Logan had such a handle on his life he was in any sort of position to judge.

He waved a hand in the air as Remy settled the paper down on the bar. "Have it yer own way, Remy," Logan said, heading down to deal with some customers.

He could feel Remy's eyes on him for a long while. But Logan went about some motions behind the bar, serving customers and finishing off his beer rather quickly. When he finally looked up, Remy was leaning against the wall chatting up a pretty blonde, ringlets framing her round face. It was a relaxed, smooth posture Logan just hadn't seen in a while…

But the kid's luck never held out strong as the blonde's husband showed up. Chuckling to himself, Remy ducked out of a fight and though he tripped backwards over a chair, eventually showed himself out of the bar. The only injury caused by his own drunken clumsiness.

Logan grunted to himself. Guess if Remy was getting his swagger back it couldn't all be bad.

Still, might go check it out…


	4. Chapter Three: Treading Water

**Disclaimer: **The characters are not mine; the situations while loosely based off the Marvel universe are mine

**AN: **This was going to be the second half of the last chapter but I was too tired to come up with it... so that means things are getting shoved off just a little bit longer. I apologize for that but thank everybody that's been sticking with this. I know updates are slow but I'm hoping they pick up just a little bit more here soon.

Thanks lucky's girl and scottfan for reviewing. Keep up the love folks it's very motivating.

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Chapter Three: Treading Water

Wind gusted Remy's auburn locks around his face and his jacket back away from his legs as he stared up at the craft, rucksack slung over his shoulder. He supposed he ought to be impressed by the sheer size of the vessel but there was a slight part of him that was actually a bit anxious. Not out of fear of heights or any of that sort of nonsense.

Remy hadn't been on a flying ship since his time in the Corps. Sure, there were plenty of commercial and privatized airships running about, but for the most part the common man only stepped foot on one when they earned their dog tags. He'd thrown his away a long time ago but he suspected they were sitting in the bottom of some bag along with Logan's. The damn man was almost sentimental.

His eyes picked out Pryde sliding down some of the rigging, landing firmly on the deck and shouting out some orders. The wind carried her words away but he could still pick out her voice. For being so young –as he still suspected – she had a fairly strong voice. Guess you'd have to with a crew that looked like this one.

Pirates, he'd guess.

Suspected as much with Kurt. Wasn't often you got the elf sorts on this side of the world. They weren't willing to cross the war zone for much of anything. Unless they weren't allowed in their own homeland, in which case they were rather forced to live above the world.

There was a whole floating city nestled in the mountaintops for his sort. Remy and Logan's sort too, honestly. But it was too close to the border for their liking.

Now Remy was flying back in that direction, taking on the horizon that had so easily swallowed up a past he'd much rather not revist.

And he wasn't. He had to be quite firm with himself on that one as he drug himself out of bed this morning. Hadn't slept a wink but then, he hadn't done much more than wash his mouth out with the last dregs in a bottle of bourbon. One of the ones he'd stash for nightcaps when he hadn't been able to be out all night drinking.

Or started too early and was already coming down. Yesterday had been one of the latter. But Remy was forward thinking enough to know he didn't want to be coming to this job hungover. Even if they had hired him on as sloppy drunk as he'd been.

"They must really be desperate," a rough voice seemed to put words to his thoughts. A large hand shoved a paper into Remy's chest. "Nice of ya to leave the address, mutt."

"Oops. Remy knew he'd misplaced _somet'ing_," he chuckled, slipping the paper away from Logan delicately between two fingers. Then just as soon stuffed it carelessly into a pocket of his duster.

"Yeah, yeah," Logan grunted, setting a bag down at his feet and then cracking his neck. "I know a cry for help when I see one. Don't go thinking you can fool me, bub."

"Wouldn't dream of it. So good t'ing I ain't."

Logan grumbled in a manner that under other circumstances would elicit a sharp smirk from Remy. After all, he went out of his way to irritate the living crap out of Logan. But the smile of his face was softer by far than anything up to his usual standards. He'd never say it but he was real glad to know Logan was coming with.

A figure was walking the side of the ship as Remy continued to stare up at it. As his eyes trained on the figure, he seemed to notice Remy and Logan down on the dock. With an acrobatic leap and summersault, Kurt landed just a foot in front of them. The silent blue man bowed at the waist, gesturing toward the gangplank not far away.

"Know how to make an entrance, homme," Remy chuckled. "I'll give y'dat much."

Kurt continued his silent treatment, falling instep behind the two men. Course Remy didn't really think the elf could hold up on saying nothing at all. Pryde had said he was her first mate. And normally the first mate was the one shouting out orders. Seemed like you'd be pretty bad at your job if you didn't say a word at all.

Though he supposed this didn't have to be some traditional crew and ship. What did Remy know anyways? He'd been a soldier not a sailor.

Actually, could they be considered sailors in the air? Supposed they were sailing on the wind still, there just wasn't water. Eh, whatever. Remy wasn't one to quibble over semantics.

Logan gave an uncomfortable grunt as they reached the deck, feeling a gentle swaying under their feet. A mischievous grin spread over Remy's face. But he kept from speaking up as Pryde started toward them. Plenty of chances to poke at his friend later. For now, business.

"Glad to see you can arrive on time," the lady said, fists on her hips. She was breathing a bit heavily, perspiration glinting on her upper lip. But she was definitely a woman in shape if that was all she was showing after all the running about she'd done.

"Couldn't keep a belle lady waiting, now could I?" Remy chuckled, winking at her. Now that he wasn't sloppy ass drunk he could be more on top of his game.

Though Pryde didn't look at all impressed. Or disgusted or angry or any of the usual reactions he might get for flirting. She simply made a neutral noise in her throat and turned her eyes on Logan, holding out a hand.

"Katherine Pryde," she introduced, shaking Logan's hand firmly. "No need to ask who you are. I'd rather hoped Mr. LeBeau would convince you along."

Logan's eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly but he was sure to be doing some great pressure on the lady's hand. She didn't seem to notice either though, pulling back after a proper amount of time and replacing her fist on her hip. Logan glanced at Remy out of the corner of his eye. Clearly displeased. The big lug could get over it.

Though Remy was back to that not trusting thing. It was one thing to have read up on him but he wasn't real fond of knowing the lady had read up on his friend as well. Again, made him wonder what else she'd fished up out of their files. A burning flared up in his gut as he feared once again that the secret was actually there in black and white for everybody to see. That the lies had only been spread by word of mouth because the facts couldn't be expunged from the records.

"We'll have to discuss the particulars of your jobs in a couple of days, gentlemen," Pryde continued. "We've a lot to do on board the ship and need to make haste through some checkpoints. None of us have the time to have you fumbling about. So for now stay out of the way and you'll be tolerated in doing whatever you please."

"Damn, knew I should've brought my cards," Remy said, snapping his fingers.

He didn't like the sound of 'checkpoints' though. Sure, he knew they existed and it would just be a part of the entire circumstances. But it put him in mind of identification papers he didn't have and wanted poster that may or may not still be up.

But staying out of the way he was good at. And if they were a pirate vessel they had to be pretty damn practiced at smuggling goods. What were a couple of people that shouldn't be there?

Though further delay in learning the specifics of what he was expected to do wasn't to his liking either. Wasn't too late to turn back now.

But a backwards glance at the gang plank had Remy decidedly against going back. He had nowhere to go here. Pretty sure the only way lower down was locked in a cell or dying. Both even. No, that wasn't something Remy could stand to sit around and wait for. The possibilities of both were here as well but least there was a promise of climbing up as well.

Didn't win much if you weren't willing to gamble hard and risk it all every now and again. Yeah Logan would point out that was what led him to this mess in the first place. But reaching almost completely down and out had been a long time coming. Remy had had been treading water for years now and he was finally ready to climb to shore instead of letting something drag him below the surface.

"There ought to be some below deck," Pryde actually responded, thumbing over her shoulder. "And I'm sure in a few days the crew would love to take your wages from you. For now, don't trouble them or I _will_ pitch you overboard."

"Aye, aye mon capitain," Remy snickered with a two finger salute.

Honestly, he'd like to see this little runt of a girl try and toss Logan over the side of the ship. The very image in his head was causing Remy to crack up. Even Logan was fighting off a weak grin.

Though at the same time, if Pryde commanded enough respect with her crew there were enough big guys around they might stand a chance against Remy and Logan. He didn't plan on testing his mettle against them anytime soon. But knowing their history, a scuffle was sure to break out at some point. More than likely over cards…

Well, you couldn't get a leopard's spots or something like that. Remy was going to be who Remy was. Nothing about that changed just because he got flashed a giant purse of money. Just meant you knew how to speak his language.

"If you can stay out of the way you're free to stay topside as we take off," Pryde said, glancing about and obviously catching on to some queue Remy hadn't picked up on. "Take off is usually less jarring when you can see where you're going. To most…"

She cast a glance at Logan who had started to go pale and then a little green around the edges. He held up his hands wordlessly to say he was fine and Pryde took that as sign enough to head back to work. Remy decided to stand there for a moment, watching the crew get to work. The lady wasn't yelling so loud but her voice still carried.

And sure enough Kurt opened his mouth to shout as well. But his deep yet musical voice uttered some foreign language, not Common. Well, that might explain his silence. Though Remy still wasn't convinced the man couldn't carry on a conversation. After all, he understood Common just fine.

Yeah, Remy would be seeing to that one real soon. Couldn't pass up a challenge, now could he?

"Well, Logan what are y't'inkin…" Remy started before glancing to either side.

The big hairy lug had moved off while he was observing their captain and first mate. Though it took only turning around to spot Logan leaning on the edge of the ship near the brow. Chuckling, Remy strode over and leaned backwards on his elbows into the railing, tilting his head back to get a good look at Logan's greying face.

"I wonder what sort of rations dey got," Remy said merrily. "Bet we have salt pork for awhile. Den dere will be pickles and boiled eggs. Oh and hard tack where y'gotta bang dem real hard to get all de worms—"

"Gumbo!" Logan snarled before gagging a little. "Mention anything more about food and I'll sling ya off the side!"

"Oh but Gumbo would be a parfait dish to have while flyin!" Remy proclaimed.

Logan groaned, squeezing his eyes shut as he leaned his head over the side more. Oh, he was too easy. Remy really did miss this part about being in the Corps rather a lot.

"What do y't'ink is the likelihood of dem allowing me up in the crow's nest?" he continued, crossing his arms and peering up at the sky.

"Ugh," Logan muttered. "This is going to be a long trip…"

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**AN: **I promise Rogue will be popping up here soon. I'm still getting other things established... like this isn't the world you're really used to. I hope things are coming across rather clearly. I don't want to hit everybody across the head with a whole bunch of facts right off the bat and just, besides that's not really Remy's style.


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